


Bewitched

by wheel_pen



Series: Bedeviled [9]
Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies), X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 02:27:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8353315
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wheel_pen/pseuds/wheel_pen
Summary: Charles has been a necessary burden in Erik’s life for years. But in one moment, he changes from a child to a potential mate in Erik’s eyes, paving the way for their future life together. AKA, the washing machine incident.





	

**Author's Note:**

> The bad words are censored; that’s just how I do things. I own nothing and appreciate the chance to play in this universe.

 

“… _projections show quarterly growth in the hospitality sector increasing by 33%._..” the voice on the other end of Erik’s headset droned. He listened with one ear, skimming his world music textbook at the same time and scribbling down answers to his homework questions. The class was an easy A that also satisfied his non-Western culture general education requirement; obviously Erik was into multi-tasking. He laid his pen down and folded another couple sweatshirts warm from the dryer beside him, eyes scanning the text for keywords from the next question.

“… _South American investments should increase by 15 to 20% in the coming year_ —“

“Sorry, Bob,” Erik interrupted, not very sorry at all, “did you say _increase_ or _decrease_?”

“ _Increase_ ,” Bob repeated, slightly flustered at being knocked from his script.

“Because in the quarterly report I just read, South American investments were projected to _decline_ ,” Erik reminded him, sticking a tape flag next to a paragraph in his textbook he needed to look at later.

There was some harrumphing and throat-clearing on the conference call and Erik rolled his eyes, folding a t-shirt and setting it aside in Charles’s pile.

“ _Maybe you’re getting that figure mixed up with the one from Africa_ ,” someone suggested in an infuriatingly delicate tone. “ _There’s a lot of numbers to keep track of_ —“

“Chile, down 11.5%. Brazil, down 13.7%. Argentina, down 21.2%,” Erik recited from memory. “I’m a f-----g engineer, I don’t get numbers mixed up. That’s what was in the quarterly report, which by the way was two days late. What the h—l is happening in South America, people?” he demanded. “Are their investments down for everyone, or just us?”

Silence met his questions. Erik swore he could hear crickets chirping. Then Peter spoke. “ _Bob, why don’t you look into that and get back to us by Friday?_ ” he suggested evenly.

“ _Sure, of course_ ,” Bob agreed quickly, knowing better than to offer any excuses.

“I want updates on the Big Seven projects on my desk by 3pm Friday,” Erik reminded everyone. A blob of ink from his pen smeared onto his fingers, meaning he couldn’t handle the clean laundry until he washed his hands. “Is there anything else?” He tried to rinse his hands quietly at the laundry room sink, nearly tripping over a detergent bottle in his haste.

This meeting really needed to end.

“ _No, I think that’s all for now_ ,” Peter decided diplomatically. Erik assumed that meant there was more, but it was of lesser importance. Sometimes he insisted on hearing it now; today he was willing to take the out, having been up late studying last night and then up early for class that morning, not to mention babysitting Charles, who was on a school holiday.

“Great. Thanks, everyone,” Erik said perfunctorily, and hung up.

He folded the last couple of clothes from the dryer—still Charles’s, could the spoiled creature not even do this for his own clothes and help Erik out a little? Obviously the answer to that question was no, since Erik didn’t even bother asking him any longer; he despaired to think what the living room would look like after the teen had been occupying it unsupervised for nearly half an hour, since Erik’s mother had gone out—no doubt dishes, napkins, and _crumbs_ would litter every surface. All that was still preferable to Charles pestering Erik while he was trying to work, however, hence the bribe of food and movies Erik had provided him with.

Erik slammed the dryer door shut with more force than was really necessary, and tried to relax. He just had a lot to do today, and had already _done_ a lot, and anticipating new problems that Charles _might_ cause was not very helpful. Anyway, if the kid didn’t know how to do chores or clean up after himself, whose fault was _that_? Once Erik saw that cheerful smile his irritation would melt.

That made him feel better, and he opened the washer to transfer his shirts to the dryer.

And stopped as he pulled one out, the cold, wet fabric dangling in mid-air.

It was pink.

All of his white shirts, he saw as he dug frantically through the pile, were pink.

And then he pulled out a red sock.

Erik did not wear red socks.

His mother did not wear red socks.

Only one person who got their laundry done here wore red socks.

“CHARLES!!”

Erik leaned on the washer, gripping the sides until his knuckles turned white. His anger felt like a live thing, clawing and roaring in its cage, telling him it would feel so good to let it out. Charles probably wouldn’t respond, he usually didn’t at first, and then maybe Erik could lash his temper back down—

Charles bounded into the laundry room, his sweet face and big blue eyes _so excited_ to have attention from Erik, and it just made Erik _sick_. “Did you call—“

“Did you do this?!” Erik demanded obscurely, shaking the red sock. If this had happened at Charles’s house, where the well-trained staff did the laundry, Erik would have had no doubt that it was deliberate, a prank by Charles and Raven.

Instead Charles looked confused, then he smiled and stepped far closer to Erik than was wise right now. “Oh, _there’s_ my other sock,” he realized happily, taking it. “Why’s it still wet?” he added in complaint.

“It got in with my white shirts.”

“Maybe I _did_ do that,” Charles admitted easily, as it came back to him. “Yes, I found the sock on the floor and put it with your shirts, so it would get washed.” Mystery solved, in Charles’s mind. “You’re going to put them in the dryer now?”

Charles could tell that Erik was still angry; Erik made no attempt to hide it. “Thank you?” Charles offered. Still not right.

The teen huffed and dropped the sock back into the washer. “Well, J---s C----t, Erik, have I broken one of your obscure laundry rules again?” he demanded. “Socks must only go with other socks, and never other pieces of clothing—“ His tone might have been funny, in other circumstances.

Erik reached into the washer and yanked out one of the shirts. “It turned them pink!”

Confusion spread across Charles’s face. “No. How would—What?” Clearly he had no concept in his brain that covered this.

“The dyes bleed!” Erik snapped at him. “That’s why we separate whites from colors! Did you seriously—“ No, Charles did _not_ know this—why would he?

Suddenly the teen giggled. “Well, you look quite nice in pink, Erik,” he claimed. “Maybe you’ll start a trend—“

Erik slammed the lid of the washer shut, making Charles jump. This kid—had he ever taken anything seriously in his life? Had he ever been _made_ to? “Come here!” In one swift motion Erik hitched himself up on top of the washing machine, dragged Charles closer, and bent him over his knee. Then he raised his hand and brought it down with a satisfying smack on Charles’s rear end. “You spoiled little s—t, have you ever even _been_ punished—“

Charles laughed in between squawks, struggling playfully to get free. Well he could make all the noise he wanted, the apartment was well-insulated and there was no one else home. Erik kept spanking him, trapping Charles’s legs with his own, his free hand gripping Charles’s sweatshirt and holding him down. He wouldn’t—he wouldn’t _hurt_ Charles, but good G-d, all the lectures and pleading and analogies and instructions never got through to him, maybe this _finally_ would cement some _crumb_ of understanding in his mind, that he couldn’t trot through life just doing whatever the h—l he pleased—

Charles stopped laughing. “Erik, could you—Erik, can you—“ He was slightly breathless, unable to finish the question. His shirt had ridden up, clenched in Erik’s fist, and Erik stared at the exposed skin of his lower back, his hand suddenly not wanting to move away, fingers curling around Charles’s hip. Where their bodies touched was hot from friction, and realization dawned on Erik in a rush and he shoved Charles off his lap.

The Omega staggered, trying to straighten up. His face was flushed, his eyes wide, and he just _stared_ at Erik, as though the entire universe had frozen around them.

And then Erik remembered what he was allowed to do, and he yanked Charles back and kissed him.

It was not a romantic, gentle kiss. It was raw and messy and urgent, and Charles had no idea what he was supposed to do. Which was fine with Erik, he didn’t _want_ him to have experience with anyone else to draw on—he was Erik’s, and only Erik’s, forever. Erik growled a little at this thought and Charles moaned, his hands sliding into Erik’s hair to keep himself close. Erik trapped the Omega against the washer, then sat him on it to give him some height, Charles’s legs wrapping around him, immobilizing Erik tight against him.

Erik finally had to pull away to breathe but was unable to stop tasting Charles’s skin like he never had before, the firmness of his jawbone and the softness of his earlobe. “F—k,” he sighed in defeat.

“Okay,” Charles agreed teasingly. His hands had slipped beneath Erik’s shirt, burning hot with sharp fingernails.

Erik was trying to think, the enormity of this change and the paths that spun off from it nearly crushing him. Though it was, of course, the point of their entire relationship. “S—t,” he said sharply.

“Perhaps we’d better wait a bit on that,” Charles deadpanned. “You know, work up to it—“

Erik kissed him again, which could prove an effective silencing technique. He went more slowly this time, positioning Charles’s head how he wanted it, savoring instead of devouring. The Omega groaned and rocked against him, Erik’s hand squeezing his hip.

“Am I in heat?” Charles asked dully. “Are we going to—“

“No.” But he was the right age for it—when had _that_ happened? Erik forced himself to pull away, just a few inches, drawing Charles’s hands out from under his clothes and gripping his wrists. The Omega’s cherry red lips were swollen, and they formed a crooked, delicious smile as Erik stared at them.

“Are there any other laundry rules I need to know, Erik?” he asked, his foot sliding up and down the back of Erik’s thigh.

This might be the point of their entire relationship, but there was still timing to consider. “You little f----r,” Erik huffed in exasperation, thwarted from what he really wanted to do by some _very_ annoying scruples.

Charles laughed, but stopped when Erik let him go and stepped back, breaking all contact with him. “Erik—“

“Stay there.” Erik leaned against the opposite wall, safely out of reach, and tried to think. There were so many new plans he had to make, things he should have thought about already—

“Erik, did I do something wrong?” Charles asked, and he seemed genuinely concerned.

“Oh, you did _everything_ wrong, Schatzi,” Erik claimed brusquely, “but we’re going to fix that.”

“I’ll get some practice in, yeah?” Charles teased, and Erik suddenly stepped back into his space, up against the washer.

“You’re not going to do that with anyone but me,” he stated, even though he knew Charles hadn’t meant that.

“No, I wouldn’t,” Charles insisted anyway, and Erik gave him another kiss, just a brief one, before he forced himself away again, untangling from Charles’s tenacious grip.

“And you’re not going to tell anyone about this,” Erik ordered him sternly.

Charles’s grin was cheeky. “No? What do I get if I don’t?” What he got was a narrow look, and Charles’s face straightened with comical speed. “I won’t tell anyone, Erik, I promise,” he vowed. “Will you get in trouble?”

“No.” Kissing his bonded Omega, whose legal guardian was off partying somewhere and couldn’t care less? No, Erik was not worried about any kind of legal trouble. Even if they did more than kiss. Which Erik was trying very hard not to think about. “I’ll take you out to dinner sometime,” he promised anyway, and the grin thankfully returned.

“Like a date?” Charles asked eagerly.

“Maybe. Stop kicking the washer.”

Charles tried to still himself. “Can you turn your shirts white again?” he asked. “I’m sorry, Erik, I really didn’t know that would happen—“

Yes, well, it was the day for unexpected consequences, wasn’t it? Erik scrubbed his face tiredly, desperate to get back to the real world he could control—he had no hope of survival in Charles-land, though he felt himself plunging deeper into it. “I’ll fix it somehow,” he dismissed. That was the least of his concerns, suddenly. “Go away now.”

Charles hopped off the washer immediately, perhaps realizing his rather close and unlikely escape from Erik’s temper, and scooted towards the door. “Charles. I don’t want to see a _single_ dirty dish or napkin anywhere in the house, except the kitchen sink,” Erik warned, and Charles nodded with what were no doubt good intentions. Then he vanished, leaving the room somehow larger and emptier.

Well. Erik had a lot more to put on his to-do list now. He would need his own apartment, for one thing, to be shared with Charles in the foreseeable future; and they had a lot to discuss about school, careers, children… He neatly rearranged the priorities in his mind, putting Charles back at the top, where he belonged.


End file.
